I lazily rolled out of bed that morning and walked into the bathroom to get ready to meet my parents at home for lunch. But as soon as I took a good look at myself in the mirror, I knew that I was in huge trouble. Three huge, purple, disgusting-looking hickeys were staring right back at me from different places on my neck. It may have felt super sensual and amazing at the time they were created, but now they were just bad souvenirs of my spicy night.
There was NO WAY my parents would believe that I somehow acquired these monstrosities at an all-girls sleepover party. I had no idea what to do! Obviously since I was at my boyfriend’s house, I didn’t have any of my concealer to disguise them under. I couldn’t really get away with wearing a turtle neck because it was the middle of summer and I had never really been a warm-weather scarf-wearing kind of gal. It’s safe to say, I was in deep doo-doo.I called my friends, but they had no advice for me; none of them had ever gotten such noticeable hickeys. One of my friends suggested that I say I burned myself with a curling iron. But three giant “curling iron burns?” I don’t think so. I had to call my last resort . . . my mom.
After I soldiered through the 10 minutes of angry screaming from her end of the phone call and the even-more-difficult-to-endure five minutes of “disappointment,” things took a totally surprising turn for the better. She told me to come home immediately and she would help me hide the situation before my dad found out.
I rushed home, and when I got there, my mom already had all of the supplies ready: a frozen spoon, a toothbrush, some lotion, and concealer. I suspected that she had dealt with hickey trauma of her own before, but I didn’t dare mention that to her. We were both silent, sitting in her bathroom. She worked quickly and I’ve got to say, she made those “love bites” her bitch.
The cold spoon against the splotches on my neck felt nice and decreased their swelling. She put lotion on the toothbrush and slowly swiped from the center of each hickey to the edge, causing the color to lighten and spread wider so it wasn’t as noticeable. Then she covered what was left with the concealer. The hickeys weren’t completely disguised, but they were far less noticeable. I would have never been able to hide them on my own.
I knew she was mad at me, but she still helped me out. I’m not sure if it was a mother-daughter lesson kind of thing or if she just really didn’t want my dad to find out what I had been up to. Either way, I was glad she was there for me in the time of my hickey nightmare.
“Make sure to wear your hair down,” she said. And with that, she walked out the door.
Have you ever had to cover up hickeys from a big make out session? Do you get mad if your boo leaves hickeys on your neck? Tell me everything in the comments!